Genuine
by Hashilavalamp
Summary: Step by step, Akito is becoming a new woman, and Shigure will accompany her every step of the journey, just as promised.


"So this is where you were hiding!"

Akito flinches at the sudden sound of his voice and turns her head just enough to shoot him a glare over her shoulder. "Go away" she tells him in that authoritarian tone of hers, before returning to whatever she is doing and pretending like he isn't in the room. How cruel. Curious, he steps a little further into the room, getting closer and closer until he stands right behind her, able to look over her shoulder.

He waits for it, with any inch he gets closer, for her nails to graze his cheek in her anger and draw blood like they had in the past, but nothing comes.

He boldly places his hands on her hips, pushing his limits further and further, and glances at what she is doing.

"Aa, you _were_ serious about visiting Tohru-kun then!" he gleefully exclaims, watching as Akito attempts to fold a shirt neatly to put it into a small suitcase she got who knows where. Apparently her previous attempts were unsuccessful; the other clothes she crammed into the suitcase are pitifully crumpled as if Akito had thrown them in in a fit of frustration.  
From the looks of it, the unfortunate shirt that she's holding in her hands is about to meet the same fate.

With a dissatisfied grunt, Akito clutches the article of clothing tightly and presses it to her chest. "I told you to go away, Shigure!" she says again, with a little more force this time and curling in on herself as if to hide. Just like the little frail woman she is.

With a smirk he leans forward, his lips seeking the side of her exposed neck. "Now now" he chides, "I am not going to mock you, you know?" She begins to struggle in his hold, still hugging the shirt to her chest, but he won't let her go. "You're using that tone with me!" she weakly defends herself, and Shigure feels the urge to fondly roll his eyes at her refusal to differentiate between loving teasing and cruel mockery. She might be a new Akito, but some things don't die so quickly. He isn't sure whether he'd want that anyway.

"I am merely observing, Akito" he comments lightly, still nuzzling the soft skin of her neck until he feels her leaning back against him.

"Don't you want help packing?"

"Not necessary."

"Akito, look at the suitcase. It's a mess, and that is coming from me."

Akito takes the shirt and demonstratively shoves it into the suitcase without any care, then turns around in his hold and glowers at him, her dark eyes alive with emotion and he feels very compelled to kiss her. He's always loved that, how the black of her eyes burns with the intensity of her feelings, barely contained, always boiling just beneath the surface, waiting to boil over at the smallest word.

He sighs instead.

"And anyway, are you planning to go without me?" he says lightly, smirking at how she stiffens at these words and looks at him with confusion. "How will any of my clothes fit inside if your mess takes up all the space?" he explains calmly with a teasing hint, reaching up to her face to play with her hair. It's grown longer than Akito ever dared to wear it before. It makes her face look softer. More like it was always meant to look.

She swats his hand away. "That's your fault for acting so dismissive about these things, like I am some chore to you!" she claims, her small frame tense and poised for attack. She's still reminiscent of a petulant child like this, but her voice lacks the harsh bite and the venom.

"You still misunderstand me."

With these words he leans forward, noting how her eyes widen until their foreheads touch.

"You are no chore. You are a choice I made for myself."

From this close he can see her cheeks redden, his words having an immediate effect. She could never hide that from him, no matter how hard she tried with her violence and rage.  
And she knows now that these words come from the heart. There's no other spirit inside him anymore yearning for its god, no Dog that whines for its master and could taint his words. There is only him, selfishly yearning for this woman. He lets his voice drop to a whisper.

"I told you that if you come to me, I will never let you go again, did I not? And you did come. So I will accompany wherever you want, I won't stray from your side."

It's her then who presses her lips to his, and he wonders whether it's because she cannot restrain herself or because she cannot bear to hear any more, but he accepts it either way, kisses her back with just as much fervor, her skin paper-thin and hot beneath his touch.

The waiting is over.


End file.
